L'Chaim

לחיים

This bracelet is the first piece of Judaica I ever bought or owned. I bought it during my first trip to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, DC. I made my first visit there as I was falling in love with Judaism. My mom and I went to visit my brother at his new home after him living there for at least ten months. I like wearing jewelry that reminds me how precious life is and the importance of living each day to the fullest.  

I used to wear a Livestrong bracelet as the reminder. I started wearing it when one of my best friend's grandfathers died of cancer. He was only in his 60's. She actually had moved across the country less than two years before he died and only made a rare visit back home to us. She came home for his funeral, which happened to coincide with my high school's winter dance. We decided there would be no boys, no dates for this dance. It would be all girls and we would all wear a Livestrong bracelet in remembrance of her grandfather and as a reminder of the importance of living. I continued to wear the bracelet every day after the dance because I appreciated its call to action. The only time I took it off was to compete or perform for dance. Even then, I wore it in between numbers. 

When my aunt was diagnosed with cancer my freshman year, the Livestrong bracelet's original meaning became profoundly real for me. My mom bought one to wear as well. I would play and fiddle with the bracelet and pray that she continue to live as she miraculously has her whole life. Then one winter day during my sophomore year the bracelet broke. It just snapped in half. I was upset about my naked wrist and planned to buy another, just as soon as I found the time to get to the mall. But a short while later I found out that my aunt had scheduled her reconnection surgery which meant the cancer was gone. Coming from a somewhat superstitious family, I took the broken bracelet as a sign and I could not buy another. Wearing the Livestrong bracelet would mean I needed to for my aunt's health.

So when I was in the Museum shop a month later and saw this bracelet I thought, "what a perfect replacement for the Livestrong bracelet on my left wrist." To Life: L'chaim. It's one of my favorite phrases in Judaism because it captures so much of Jewish thought in so few letters. This bracelet also carries with it the lessons of the Shoah. Each life is of infinite value and 6 million Jewish worlds and 5 million non-Jewish worlds were destroyed in six short years.

The importance of life and my family's health was tied into this bracelet immediately after I bought it. On the eight hour drive to Virginia, my mother had developed a blood clot. The clot broke loose as we walked around the city the day we were at the Museum. She started feeling pain in her lung that evening and it increased exponentially the following day. She wasn't sure what was wrong, because it felt like a cramp. I woke up early the last day of our trip to drive her home so she wouldn't be stuck in a DC hospital. Scared for my mother's life, I shaved nearly two hours off the trip. This might have saved her life. That night at our home town hospital she flatlined and spent a week in intensive care. That night was one of the single most scary nights of my life. But she lived. The doctors told us how to improve her health from then on our to prevent another blood clot from ever occurring.

I wear this bracelet not only as a reminder that this is my only life and I must take advantage of that, but as an expression of my Judaism. I have always worn it on shabbat, but I also have worn it at random times throughout the week when I felt comfortable expressing who I am deep in my soul. It's hard when the bracelet calls other people's attention and they wonder why I'm wearing it if I'm not Jewish. But now, I don't really care and most people who see it know my story. And by now, most new people don't question it because I seem Jewish. I know too much to be a gentile.

This bracelet will always be precious to me because it holds stories of my life, the history of the Jewish people, and expressions of the Jewish beliefs I connect to most.

Anxiety & Excitement About the Coming Year

My rabbi (hopefully) finally just returned from sabbatical. He was at shul yesterday and said to call him this week to set up a meeting before the conversion class starts. I'm super excited. And I'm super nervous. This rabbi is supposedly one of the best in town and I don't want to mess anything up with him. I really want to work with him because I've heard amazing things about his teaching and patience.

Since I tend to forget everything when I am nervous and talking, I decided I should write something down for him. I'm a pretty good writer and that way I can make sure to articulate all the really important things I think he should know. I could convince him that I will be a righteous convert in writing. Except, when I actually sat down to write, too much came out and now he'll probably never read it. Eighteen pages is too long for him; this I am sure. But I won't lie, I love that it so neatly came out to chai pages. I pulled some information from this blog, but it is mostly new. I may post the paper in segments in the future.

I also made up a Jewish resume of sorts. I want him to know right where I am in my learning, my experiences, and observance. This was sort of my intuition as a future teacher. It can take weeks to figure out what a student actually knows. I figured I would help him along and save us both time.

Every time I go to shul the cantors and rabbis ask whatever friend I've schlepped in for the week and me about coming to High Holiday services. They seem to love opening up to college students who can't get home. There is no charge, obviously, but students don't even have to call ahead to get a ticket. You can just show up. I am really excited to spend the High Holy Days at an actual synagogue. Don't get me wrong, I love that Hillel does services for free for students. But they are incomplete and often rushed. They only do three services on Yom Kippur so you end up sitting at home, alone, all afternoon thinking about how hungry you are.

All in all, I have an exciting year coming up and I'm ready to get started.

Critical Response to a Critic

Usually when I get rude or disrespectful comments, I send them to spam and ignore them. However, I got one today that I didn't want to let disappear into cyberspace. This commenter is clearly new to my blog and I thought addressing some of his concerns would give my readers a chance to understand me and my blog a little better, especially if they came late in the game and never went back to the first 5 blog posts. I will not post the person's name but he will know who he is. I do not intend to embarrass or publicly shame him, though it is clear that from his comment that was his intention toward me. These things are forbidden by Jewish Law, not mention common courtesy. On my most recent post Catholic Enough for Hell, the commenter, who will be known as the Orthodox Critic from here on out, wrote

It's not clear to me that you are Catholic enough to be Jewish. Orthodox Judaism has a long historical relationship with the Lord. Reform and Conservative Judaism are inventions of the modern era. So, if you are converting to anything other than Orthodox Judaism, you aren't really converting to anything but modernism. You don't need to be Jewish in order to be modern. You can do that without needing any "conversion classes" at all - just agree with what the world teaches, and you are essentially Reform Jewish, even Conservative Jewish. Everyone remakes God in their image, instead of allowing themselves to be changed by God so that each of us reflects His image. It sounds like you would rather not be changed - if that's true, then your "conversion" to some modern variant of Judaism isn't going to stick very long. You'll soon discover that you can be as modern as you want without bothering about Judaism, or any faith system, at all. 

My initial impression is that the Orthodox Critic intends to guard Judaism like a secret club and does not recognize any Judaism but his own as legitimate. But I will give him the benefit of the doubt and address his concerns point by point.

It's not clear to me that you are Catholic enough to be Jewish. Orthodox Judaism has a long historical relationship with the Lord.

I am not sure what the Critic means by "not Catholic enough to be Jewish." If I were Catholic, I could not be Jewish. And the last time I checked, Orthodox Judaism has NOT had a long historical relationship with Jesus. However, if it has, then I certainly have no interest in practicing Orthodox Judaism. If he means that I did not practice a strict enough Catholicism growing up in order to be Jewish, on the first half he would be correct; on the second half - how does that matter? Why would practicing a strict interpretation of any religion affect how I practice Judaism? Clearly, converting to a new religion means that I did not connect to the original religion. It's not possible to sincerely practice any version of Christianity if you don't believe in Jesus Christ. I thought that was a given, but apparently not.

Furthermore, if the Orthodox Critic had read the rest of my blog and had not jumped to his own wackadoodle conclusions, he would know that my faith in G-d is central to who I am. I believe that G-d created the universe and plays a role in the course of human history. I believe in G-d so strongly that I am willing to join the most persecuted group of people - who also happen to have the strictest standards of any religion for joining them  - just so that I can act on my faith in its purest form.

 Reform and Conservative Judaism are inventions of the modern era. So, if you are converting to anything other than Orthodox Judaism, you aren't really converting to anything but modernism.

I will grant the Orthodox Critic his first claim here. Yes, Reform Judaism developed in the 19th century and Conservative in the 20th. NEWS FLASH: Orthodox Judaism developed AFTER Reform Judaism. Therefore, you can not say that Reform and Conservative Judaism are inventions of the modern era without admitting that Orthodox is, too. If you believe that the Orthodox Judaism practiced today is the same as Judaism practiced in the 17th century, 10th century, 1st century, or at the time of Moses, you are sorely mistaken. However, all forms of Judaism are a continuation of the tradition developed after the giving of the Torah at Sinai. The Rabbis explicitly said that each generation must interpret the Torah for themselves. Jewish texts including the Talmud have always noted the dissenting and losing legal opinions so that new generations could look to those interpretations. It is possible the dissenting opinion for generation X would work for generation X+1 or X+10.

If I convert to Orthodox Judaism, I would be converting to a modern form of Judaism. But what I think the Orthodox Critic was really trying to say is that no other Judaism is true except for Orthodox Judaism. That is his opinion. 90% of American Jews would strongly disagree. I'm sure they love being told their Judaism is fake. Third on this point, how does one "convert to modernism"? "Modernism" isn't a religion or even a philosophy of any kind. It's an extremely ambiguous term that can only be defined relatively. I already live in the modern world so how could I convert to living modernly? Is that what he meant?

You don't need to be Jewish in order to be modern. You can do that without needing any "conversion classes" at all - just agree with what the world teaches, and you are essentially Reform Jewish, even Conservative Jewish.

 No, I definitely don't have to be Jewish to be modern. But my goal is not to be modern. My goal is to be around people who understand G-d and humanity in a similar fashion that I do. My goal is to study Torah and to live a Jewish life. Jewish values and holidays are meaningful to me. I love going to shul. I love discussing the words of the Torah and current events from a Jewish perspective. Most of all, my goal is to join people who want me to join them. The Orthodox Critic is clearly not open to making me a part of his community, and that is fine with me. I want to make my community out of liberal or open Jews, not close-minded ones. Just as I don't make friends with close minded people, I will not make a community out of close-minded Jews.

I don't necessarily need to take a conversion class; he is somewhat correct. The class is about learning in a group (something Judaism loves) and meeting other potential Jews-by-Choice. They would be a part of my community and we would always be a special sub-group of Jews. Meeting them and knowing them is important. But moreso, the class is about studying, and the only way to become Jewish is by studying. A gentile absolutely cannot become any kind of Jew without converting. 

How can one "agree with what the world teaches"? What does the world teach? If by world you mean people in the world, one must choose a viewpoint. Different religions and philosophies focus on different things. It is impossible to agree with all of them, otherwise there would be no separate ideas or differing opinions. There is no "agreeing with what the world teaches;" one must choose a line of thought and go with it. That is what I am doing.

I'm not sure if the last part of his point means that he believes any "modern" person is a Reform or Conservative Jew... That really doesn't make any sense. Does he think that liberal Christians are liberal Jews? Does he believe only Orthodox Jews are Jews? Both would be wrong. Even Orthodox rabbis know that halachically speaking, a Jew is a Jew. It doesn't matter if they disagree with the kind of Judaism most American Jews practice; they're still Jews.

Everyone remakes God in their image, instead of allowing themselves to be changed by God so that each of us reflects His image. It sounds like you would rather not be changed - if that's true, then your "conversion" to some modern variant of Judaism isn't going to stick very long. You'll soon discover that you can be as modern as you want without bothering about Judaism, or any faith system, at all. 

I've never encountered anything or anyone to support your claim that everyone "remakes G-d in their image." If he means to say that people tend to say G-d agrees with their point of view, then yes that's certainly true. It sounds like maybe he is doing that himself. But in Judaism, everyone must wrestle with G-d to come to their own understanding of Him. So, depending on how he means "remake," he could be right. He is saying something that Judaism actually encourages. Jews have different understandings of the nature G-d but the point is to believe in Him in some way.

To say that it "sounds like I don't want to be changed" based on a post I wrote about Catholicism and my inability to change to meet their requirements is completely inapplicable to Judaism. There is no evidence in any of my blog or in my life that I don't want to change. In fact, in the post the Orthodox Critic read and commented on I said

I let my beliefs change, grow, and expand in a non-Catholic way

and

I want to continue to grow and learn on the path I set myself on seven years ago.

How could someone possibly interpret that as resistant to change? I have changed a great deal since I was 14 years old and was confirmed in the Catholic Church. My life has changed and my soul has expanded. But my core has remained constant. I will admit that. Certain things remain constant but other things change a great deal. Someone once said to me that all major life changes should only make us more of who we already are. That means a lot of exterior things and some interior things will change but the central parts of who we are should not change. So, no, I don't want those central parts of me to change, otherwise I wouldn't be me.

I am quite aware that one need not be Jewish to be modern, we both already established that. But once more I'll reiterate, becoming a Jew has nothing to do with being modern. In fact, how is celebrating a dinner in a fashion set many centuries ago to remember an event that happened literally thousands of years ago modern? How is not eating pork or shellfish because a thousands year old book said not to modern? Judaism isn't really modern. People have figured out ways for it to survive in the modern world, though, including Orthodox Jews.

Finally, Orthodox Critic, it is clear you don't want me to be a Jew. Luckily, it's not your choice and it's none of your business. That goes for any Debbie or Donnie Downer out there. You are entitled to your opinion, but your opinion is not fact or law. If you want to actually discuss something here on my blog, feel free to do so. But making sweeping statements like this one is not acceptable.


I would like to say to anyone who reads this blog, that I have no issue with Orthodox Judaism or Jews. I have an issue with people like this Orthodox Critic who insist on closing Judaism to others and who think their Judaism is the only Judaism. I actually love much of what Orthodox Judaism has to offer. I considered Orthodox conversion but realized there were a few things that I just couldn't agree with and knew I wouldn't be able to stand it. For example, it's not the mechitza itself I have a problem with. I know many women who appreciate being able to pray away from their husbands or boyfriends. It allows them time and space to focus on prayer and communicating with G-d. I've been to shul with a mechitza and their point it true. It's what men have on their side of the mechitza that I take issue with. Only men sit with the Torah and can be called to the Torah. I believe that when G-d said that the words of the Torah are not in heaven so that you can't access them but here with us on earth, that He was talking to everyone, not just men. It doesn't make sense to me that only men should have access to the words, truth, and guidance of the Torah.

I hope I have made who I am a little clearer to everyone, including the Orthodox Critic. Feel free to ask questions but, please, refrain from judgmental accusations.

Catholic Enough For Hell

What does it mean "Catholic enough for hell"?

I actually heard this in a documentary about orthodox converts to Judaism, so it's not at all original. A man was giving a talk about his conversion to Judaism and he said (roughly) "When people find out I converted and grew up Catholic, their next question is always 'well, just how Catholic were you?' And I tell them, I was Catholic enough that I knew I was going to hell. So I changed religions." It was a joke, but not really. I could feel that there was truth in his words and understood the pain he'd once felt. When I heard this, it described my feelings about the church pretty well, and now that I am certain I want to convert, the description is dead on.

I figured out pretty early in my childhood that what the church was teaching and I believe (slash, was taught at home) were two very different things. When I think back on the things my parents/family taught me, this is what I remember: G-d said, "be a good person;" respect your parents; do what you can to help others; it is a sin to waste your talents, your G-d given talents. No one ever told me only Catholics go to heaven or only Catholics can be saved. My parents never condemned people to hell or even taught me about purgatory (that is, until I watched the movie Purgatory with my dad). My parents never preached that I needed to "wait" until marriage, that life begins at conception, or that birth control is bringing about the demise of the traditional family structure. And no one really made it seem like Jesus was central to any of those tenants.

When I was young, I didn't notice the disconnect. I saw nothing peculiar about learning one thing at home and one thing at CCD. I learned different things at home than at school, so why should religious school be any different? If I did, by some chance, notice a discrepancy I'd side with my parents (Honor your father and your mother that you may long endure, Exodus 20:12), for it was always my parents who truly had my best interest in mind. As I got older, I started to realize that the things I believe were not the same thing the church told me I need to believe. I tried to understand what they were telling me, but it didn't make any sense. After a long time I realized I would not change, I could not change. I just accepted that we didn't agree. According to them, I was most likely going to go to hell (might as well live it up).

Once I decided to live by the tenants that I identified with and not the ones the church tried to force on me, living became easier. But the problems always came when I sat around thinking. I thought maybe I should be doing something more Catholic, trying to live by what they told me at CCD. I always came back to the same conclusion: I was going to go to hell. In fact, most of my family was probably going to to hell, too. They didn't seem too distressed about it, so why should I be?

I let my beliefs change, grow, and expand in a non-Catholic way. I knew I was damned according to their logic either way, so I should try to be a good person the way I see it. I eventually realized that G-d is a loving, merciful G-d and what they said couldn't be true. After years of thought, estrangement, strained prayer, and social justice work, I discovered a place where my beliefs about G-d and the world would be accepted. I couldn't believe at first that Jews believe what I believe or they live in a way I think one should live. I couldn't believe, most of all, that not all Jews believe the same things. There are different opinions on every topic. There is no dogma.

Now, here I am more than a year and a half after I first discovered there could be a place in the world for me. I don't have to be a lone wolf if I don't want to be. It has been long enough, and it's time to change religions. I am not going to hell and no one could convince me otherwise.

I want to continue to grow and learn on the path I set myself on seven years ago. One day, I want to share all that I have learned with my children, and my children's children. Today in shul I realized just how much that means to me when we read these words:

But take utmost care and watch yourselves scrupulously, so that you do not forget the things that you saw with your own eyes and so that they do not fade from your mind as long as you live. And make them known to your children and to your children's children. [Deuteronomy 4:9]

 Passing on who I am is of the utmost importance to me and that is what Moses implored the Israelites to do in this week's Torah portion. These words are truly eternal.

In exactly three weeks, my conversion/introduction to Judaism class begins. Does that mean I am officially converting to Judaism now?

THE Conversion Crisis

The conversion crisis or conversion conflict is confusing, overwhelming, and infuriating. In a nutshell, this is the crisis: there are four main movements in Judaism (really at least seven) and they lie on a spectrum. Each movement to the right does not accept the conversions done in the movement to the left. That is, the Conservative movement does not accept the conversions done in the Reform or Reconstructionist movement; the Orthodox movement does not accept the conversions done in the Conservative, Reform, or Reconstructionist movements. Conservative accepts Orthodox and Reform and Reconstructionist accept everyone's. Israel makes things more complicated. Any conversion done outside eretz Yisrael (the land of Israel) is valid for aliyah purposes: any convert can get immediate citizenship. But only converts who complete RCA Orthodox conversions are considered Jewish by the rabbinu, meaning only they are allowed to marry and be buried in a Jewish cemetery (that is, without having to reconvert).

What... a mess.

This was the simplified version. The reality is, many rabbis from all movements recognize the problem and call for a solution. The reality also is, that the Jewish community just can't seem to find a solution. From 1978-1983 there was an attempt at a solution that ultimately failed called the Denver Program. Potential converts to Judaism would study with rabbis from all movements in a pluralistic way and the convert in front of a beit din, again with rabbis from all movements. The project ultimately collapsed when the Reform movement issued the acceptance of patrilineal descent. The Orthodox and Conservative movements couldn't fathom something that deviates from traditional halacha. Rabbi Joseph Telushkin (author of Jewish Literacy - buy it, now), a well respected Modern Orthodox rabbi, has advocated for a solution accepting converts of all movements among all movements.

It seems it would be impossible to get everyone to agree. There are so many opinions, how could everyone agree to a standard for conversion? Well, it would be simpler if everyone looked at the halacha prescribed in the Talmud and then said OK let's do it. The Talmud gives very view tasks for the conversion process. Only to study and go to the mikvah, and circumcision for a man. But everyone views "study," the beit dein requirements, and acceptance of the mitzvote differently.

The cut and dry version I outlined above, also, isn't so cut and dry. I started to realize this when a reform convert I know told me she would probably join a Conservative shul when it was time for her children to go to Sunday/Hebrew school. I emailed several rabbis asking their opinion on the state of the conversion crisis. The email generally went as follows.

Dear Rabbi so and so,

I was wondering, in your professional opinion, where do you think the American Jewish Community stands in solving the conversion crisis (that is, orthodox not recognizing nonorthodox conversions, conservative not recognizing reform, israel only recognizing RCA orthodox)? It's been apparent since the 19th century in Germany that there is a major problem, yet here we are in the 21st and nothing seems to be solved. As someone who is ready to begin serious study with a rabbi, I find the crisis overwhelming and confusing. Any born Jew can move from movement to movement if he/she so chooses. That does not seem to be an option for the convert. It would make sense to me if we converted first then chose a movement/shul to belong to. 

Some rabbis replied immediately, which was surprising since I did it late in the evening, but by the end of the day Tuesday, I had gotten all the replies I was going to get. What I learned is that not every Orthodox rabbi rejects converts from the liberal movements and most rabbis are understanding and sympathize with converts. It is a mess and they know it. The reform rabbis are the most hopeful that acceptance is coming and progress is being made (especially in Israel). Unfortunately, the conservative rabbis were the most negative. They believe that the movements are diverging and things will only get worse. The Orthodox were certainly the most understanding and kind. Everyone (almost) said to follow my heart.

I had a follow up phone conversation with the director of the Jewish Outreach Institute (a reform rabbi) and he gave me some pretty interesting and helpful statistics. They did a study a few years ago in which they asked conservative rabbis if they would accept the conversions of a reform rabbi, if they were done according to halacha. The study showed that about 50% of the rabbis would accept those conversions and about 50% wouldn't. They didn't do the study asking traditional or Orthodox rabbis, but he said he imagined the numbers would be the same. Ultimately, he said, it is up to the individual rabbi whether or not my conversion or my children would be accepted. In the case of my children not being accepted, they would need only to dip in the mikvah to solve their status problem. And in the end, there will always be someone standing to our right, questioning us, but that need not stop us from pursing Judaism and G-d.

In truth, I know of a case in my town, at my college, in which a person's status was questioned and the fix was not a simple trip to the mikvah. But I am going to go ahead and believe the reform rabbi and call that an extraordinary case. I am going to be hopeful with the reform rabbi. Why am I going to be so hopeful? Because of the Orthodox rabbis. One of them said to me,

I couldn't agree with you more... Know that I identify strongly with your feelings and your suggestion that we convert first in some generic fashion and then choose a movement was once the position of a right wing Orthodox rabbi, but he was shot down but his colleagues so he retracted the responsa.   It is a fractured world and we too are fractured people.  I do hope that I haven't dissuaded you.

He offered me no solution, I know. But a right wing Orthodox rabbi suggested generic conversion? Perhaps there will be no solution, ever, but not all Orthodox rabbis or Orthodox people are set on guarding Judaism like a secret club. They are the people we should seek out as allies, but more importantly, as friends. In truth, we will never know or come into contact with every Jew on the planet. Our communities are what matters, and if we make a community filled with accepting people, including the Orthodox, then we are doing exactly what we should. It's all we can do. 

Through this little project I have become much more comfortable with the idea of conversion in the context of the Jewish world. Much of my discomfort has come with the non-Jewish world accepting it and I concentrated on dealing with that first. Now I have dealt with both. That's not to say I have completely reconciled either issue; I am just in a place now where I am very comfortable with the idea in respect to the Jewish and non-Jewish worlds. In my opinion, that's a pretty good place to be a month before my conversion class starts.

There is no truth. Adonai Eloheichem Emet. 

G-d is truth. Not us. -Rabbi Andrea

Challenging the Norm

Last year, I took an English class in which our major focuses were feminism and sexuality. Women's lit classes tend to be that way, but it was honestly one of the most beneficial classes I have taken in college. The best classes are the ones that help you grow as a person, and this particular class helped me understand conversion and Jewish identity better than any Jewish studies class I've taken. Feminist and queer studies are all about challenging the status quo. The feminist movement is about moving away from gender stereotypes ingrained in our society. Our final project was about challenging the norm and we had to use three different texts to discuss the ideas (obviously more complex than what I am telling you). There was a creative option to this prompt: use yourself as one of the three texts. 

At first, I wasn't thrilled at the idea of telling a college professor my story. But as she told us the last day, she was very honest and much more open than she normally is in class because the point at the end was for us to take a risk and put ourselves in the work we'd done all quarter. Since this was one of the best classes I'd taken and she had been terribly honest, I felt obligated to be equally as honest. So I took the creative option, and I learned a lot about myself in doing so.

Converting to Judaism isn't just about changing your religious affiliation, not in this country. If you're in Israel and you convert, then you're joining the majority. But in the Diaspora, you're joining a minority. In the west, you're joining the minority that has, historically, been persecuted by the majority religion and is extremely misunderstood by the majority. Christianity has inseparable ties to Judaism, historically and religiously. When you convert to Judaism, you have to face the questions from your Christian family and friends "Why are you doing this?" and maybe even "Why are you rejecting Jesus?" You walk away from the normative culture when you convert to Judaism. It's not really about rejecting Christianity or Jesus; it's about other people seeing it that way. You have to deal with people's views about non-Christian religions and the Jewish religion.

Whether or not we want it to be this way, converting to Judaism is a challenge to the norm and we have to accept the consequences of embracing that challenge. This is where a lot the emotional stress of converting comes from. Even though I see myself as already having shed the Christian identity my parents gave me, many people might not recognize that. I have to go through their process of shedding that identity they see me having.

---------------------

The Project

*please note that I did oversimplify a few things for this.

The Story:

I am one of .03% of people in this country who identify JBC. Watch.

The Norm:

Despite our constitution saying that government shall establish no religion, some

people think it should. The majority of our country is Christian and most people,

especially in small towns, take for granted that other religions even exist. Because

the pilgrims were Puritan Christians fleeing the mainline Protestant persecution

in England, people think that our Founding Fathers founded Christianity here.

The idea of this norm is furthered by the strong proselytizing nature of

Christianity. It's ultimate goal (at least at its inception) is for all the world to be

Christian, so many Christians have a hard time accepting that anyone would

willingly be non-Christian.

The Reality:

Over three-fourths of our country identify as Christians. But the next

largest religious group, is all together non-religious: atheists, agnostics,

and otherwise unassociated come in at about 15%. Right now, Jews are

the third largest religious group in America but because Islam is a

proselytizing religion, it will soon surpass Judaism in size. Eastern

religious such as Buddhism, Hinduism, Skihism, and Baha'i also exist in

America. There are also Free Masons, Wiccas, Scientologists, and

Universal Unitarianists. Regardless of how small the numbers of these

groups are, they are examples beyond the norm.

The Challenge:

The challenge for me and for all Jews is to face Christians who fervently believe that Jesus was the Jewish Messiah and that Jews are stubborn for not accepting this. Most Christians have not the slightest idea why Jesus was not the Messiah (mainly, no peace on Earth) and that Christian theology has now diverged from that Jewish belief to include a son of G-d which conflicts with traditional monotheism. It's not fun to be told you're going to hell, but it happens. What may be more challenging is antisemitism from the average Joe Shmoe. I can't tell you how many times people have told me "antisemitism doesn't exist anymore." People have no idea when they're being antisemitic. Challenging people's assumptions about what Jews believe, how they act, and fighting antisemitism is twice the convert's job because he/she knows and comes into contact with so many nonJews/Christians. Christians want to know WHY? What are you doing? WHY are you REJECTING Jesus Christ/the lord/savior/son of god/messiah???? It's very simple: he was not Adonai, the G-d of Jacob, Isaac, and Abraham. But I am in a unique position to teach people about Judaism/other than Christian-religions. My roommates from freshman year surprisingly love to learn about this complex religion/people. They learn a great deal, and are better people for it.

Tomorrow They Will Hate You

According to the tradition, when a gentile comes to a rabbi for conversion, the rabbi is supposed to discourage him/her. The discouragement is supposed to be antisemitism (except there was no such name until the 19th century). Tractate Yevamot of the Talmud says:

The rabbis taught: When someone nowadays presents himself for conversion, we say to him: Why do you wish to convert? Are you not aware that nowadays Israelites are careworn, stressed, despised, harassed and persecuted?

Rabbis now a days may word it like this: 

You must know that by converting, people who pay no mind to you today, will hate you tomorrow, simply because you will be Jewish. 

I read this contemporary rabbi's response in one of my books. The second response to the potential convert is much more severe, invoking hatred from the extreme antisemites as the reason not to become a Jew. But it is the Talmud that recognizes the true situation that makes life difficult for Jews and for converts, potential or otherwise. Because the truth is, it's not the Hitlers, Stalins, or Ahmadinejads of the world who could discourage us from being Jewish. They are full of hate and it's disgustingly apparent. All the brilliant minds of this world couldn't change the mind of the committed antisemite. And let's be honest, many people have tried. What we know of all baseless hatred is just that: it's baseless. You can't pull the rug out from under them because there is no rug. They have no reason other than hate to hate, so convincing them into understanding, tolerance, or acceptance is simply not possible. You just ignore them best you can and live your life as a G-d fearing, Torah loving Jew. 


It's not the extremists who really hurt you with their opinions. It's the rest of the people, the people who are kind in all respects save for those antisemitic sentiments they quietly harbor. They're appalled by the Holocaust but believe Jews control the media and the economy. Or they don't understand why Jews are so stubborn as to still not accept Christ after all these years. Or they just dislike Jews for some strange reason. So no, it's not the KKK or the WBC who pain you with their opinions and discourage you from being Jewish. It's the people you know.


It's the person you work for who purposefully offers pork to the Jewish girl and then evilly laughs when she politely declines. And it's that person who despises Israel for no reason other than it's a Jewish country. And it's your friend's mom who laughs hysterically at the idea of you becoming Jewish then offers her disapproving judgment upon realizing it's not a joke. 


But no matter how many antisemitic incidents you pile onto this list, they could never out weigh the Torah. Throw as many cons and negatives at us as you want, rabbi - world, nothing can discourage a life studying and living Torah once you realize its potential. It might sound trite or it might sound idealistic, but it's true. Once the idea of Jewish has entered your mind, heart, and ultimately soul, there is no turning back. And dealing with the antisemitism is part of the deal, and it's worth it, quite honestly. It is a gift to be a Jew, whether you were born one or get to choose that life as an adult, and nothing with great rewards and beauty can come completely free. If dealing with hateful, ignorant people is the cost to living life according to the Jewish calendar, getting to study Torah, and serving G-d through tikkun olam, tzedakah, and gemilut chasadim, then so be it. 


Discourage me all you want, rabbi; antisemitism is negligible in this consideration. Antisemitism is nothing when we consider all that G-d has to offer.

Converts becoming Rabbis

Apparently, it’s really common for converts to Judaism to become rabbis. Hell, one of our Hillel rabbis is one of them. Another of them wrote the book The Choosing, which you all need to read. One of my friends told me not to be the “stereotypical convert.” He asked me not to become a rabbi. I knew that there were people who converted and became rabbis, but I wasn’t aware that it was some kind of stereotype in the Jewish community. Rabbis Hillel and Akiva were both descendents of converts – this is often cited as proof of the good converts bring to the Jewish people. Basically, converts are no less capable of being leaders in the Jewish community than born Jews. But the idea today is that converts get excited about their learning and Judaism and want to continue it, so they become rabbis. I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. If you love something so much of course you would want to help others find that same love and of course you would want a profession where you could be totally immersed in the thing you love.

I thought about what my friend said to me, and honestly, it’s a silly thought. Me, a rabbi? I would make a terrible rabbi. My voice is terrible, I don’t like when crowds of people are looking at me, and I take things way too personally. I become invested in people I shouldn’t become invested in. I will worry about them day and night. (I have to deal with this as a future teacher.) Plus, I just don’t want to be a rabbi. I wonder if converts really do just get excited and become rabbis, not really thinking about the job that “rabbi” brings with it. As a congregational rabbi, the congregation is your boss but you’re the authority. What a complicated relationship. You’re responsible for children, teens, adults, and the elderly. Plus all the interfaith stuff that happens in big cities these days. Sure, you can choose not to participate but that won’t help bring peace to your Jewish community. I don’t think I’d ever be comfortable doing interfaith work as the sole representative of Judaism in dialogue with a priest. It would just weird me out too much.

Becoming a rabbi is a big commitment and it can’t be made lightly. I’ve seen the way converts can burn out on Judaism. They don’t give up (well, I’m sure some have). But they go in observant/committed and after a few years they’re tired of it. It’s hard… Now, add in being a rabbi to that. You’ve spent years of your life plus tons of money on an education for a job you maybe don’t want or aren’t cut out for and then you start resenting the religion that got you into this mess in the first place. I’m not saying this is exactly what happens. I’m just saying it could happen and that’s probably why my friend asked me not to become a rabbi.

I’m not thinking of becoming a rabbi. Since I was 16, I have been committed to becoming a teacher. That dream has changed slightly in that I’ve changed which subject and which type of school I want to teach in. But other than those two things, I’ve been consistent with my life goal and from the beginning I’ve found Judaism to go right along with it. Judaism values education and educators. Judaism values civil rights and equality. Judaism values the individual. I never once thought of changing my life course because of Judaism. I think about Judaism enhancing the course I’ve been on since I was in the tenth grade when a teacher half-heartedly asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I want Judaism to help make me a better person and a better teacher, because that’s who I am. I don’t want Judaism to change me. Becoming a rabbi would be changing who I am, and that’s not OK. No matter how much I love Judaism and love learning about it, I can’t change who I am.

Luckily, Judaism values life-long learning. I can take as many classes as want at my synagogue or JCC. If I ever save up enough, I could study at Pardes or another university in Israel one summer. My learning won’t cease after the mikvah and it wouldn’t have to if I didn’t go to rabbinical school. And one day, G-d willing, I will get to teach Judaism to my children. That is all I need.

Looking Down on Others

Never look down on anybody unless you’re helping him up – Jesse Jackson

At one of our recent Torah study sessions, my friend explained the Jewish world in an interesting way to me. Jews look down on those who do more and those who do less than they do. For example, a Conservative Jew doesn’t understand why the Reform don’t observe Jewish Law as much as he/she does, but looks down on the Orthodox for doing more. The idea is that you’re lazy if you do less and you’re crazy if you want to do more than *I* do. Now, most Jews might not admit this and definitely wouldn’t word it this way, but he has a point. Among the movements, there is a lot of tension. They all have different ideas. But what it always comes back to is level of observance and I think this can be the hardest thing for converts to deal with. My friend for a long time was struggling with what kind of Jew he is but ultimately concluded he was still a Conservative Jew, because he was raised that way. Converts have to pick for themselves what movement to associate with and what level to observe the various laws. The whole looking down on anyone who observes differently than you do is annoying, superficial, but somewhat true, at least in my experiences.

Here’s how I know his explanation of the Jewish World is true. I’ve been a running joke in my friend group for almost the last year and a half. I try not to let it get to me, but it’s really getting old. Every time I know something, people laugh. Of course I know, I read about Judaism and the Jewish world for hours a day, why is that funny? When people find out I study Torah with this friend, most people find that strange and ask why. You’re going to services on Saturday morning, why? You’re going to an Orthodox Seder and not the Hillel Seder? Why? Why not? Some people are over it; some people are not. The question is becoming more important to me as I move deeper in my journey because this joke could turn into, “well you’re not actually Jewish” or “you’re not a born Jew” once I’m converted. I mean, people have already made comments like that to me. I know that this is an unavoidable part of being a convert, but it’s not cool when it’s coming from people you trust. How could I ever stand up to strangers if I can’t even deal with my friends who don’t like when I’m more observant or knowledgeable than they are? 

See, my friend let’s me disagree with him. He’s a pluralist in that way. But most Jews I meet are not, even if they think they are. If they’re Reform, they’re Reform because they like being Reform and don’t really get the Orthodox. If they’re Orthodox they don’t understand any movement that doesn’t accept and observe the Torah as the literal word from G-d. It’s really tough. For the sake of argument, let’s say there are 15 million Jews in the world (different censuses say different things). That means there are 15 million ways to be a Jew. And we add one more for every convert who joins the tribe. No two Jews are the same. Judaism is almost 4,000 years old. There is a lot to be learned and infinitely many ways to interpret the Torah. If someone finds meaning in the way they observe, why do you get to look down on them? Ask yourself first if you find meaning in the way you’re observing or if you’re doing things blindly. Ask yourself is this what G-d intended when He commanded this action? 

The G-d of our Fathers

I feel like it’s a pretty common thing for converts to research their family trees looking for Jews. We want to know if we are inheriting something, perhaps it’s like a gene that has skipped several generations or the people before us ignore it or were unable to act on it for whatever reason. In general, people want to know where they come from. This is why ancestry.com is a flourishing online business. I actually did the two week free trial last fall through ancestry.com and I learned some pretty interesting things.

First, let’s start with what I already knew. My father’s mother’s father was a Jew. He converted to Lutheranism. My grandma was raised a Lutheran then converted to Catholicism when she met my grandpa. It was a big drama at the time because Christians are suspicious of Catholics, obviously. No one ever really knew why my great-grandfather converted away from Judaism or when. He didn’t talk about it much. This makes perfect sense if you think about it. He took on a new religion that believes Jews are damned to hell. Why would he talk about ever having been one? And back then, people didn’t discuss personal things like that anyways; I can’t imagine religious conversion coming up for family conversation.

When I started searching on ancestry.com, I eventually found my great-grandfather. I had sat with my grandma to find out her grandparents names to make sure I was finding the right people. Eventually I found his parents who were born in Saratov, Russia. I had never heard of this city. I looked it up. It falls outside where the Pale of the Settlement was (where most Russian Jews lived). I thought maybe he wasn’t Jewish and it was a strange family rumor that had started. He was strange so someone said he was a Jew, my grandma heard it and told my dad who told me? I researched this little town further and I came to the conclusion that my grandma was right all along: he was Jewish and his parents lived in a Jewish town.

Saratov was a small town with about 40 Jews living in it. It was one of the few towns outside of the Pale where Jews could live successfully. The only reason I was able to learn any of this about Saratov is because the town makes the history books for sad reasons. In 1853 there was a blood libel case. [If you don’t know, blood libel cases are when Christians accuse Jews of using a Christian’s blood – usually a child’s – for ritual sacrifice, common around Passover because of the link to the Pascal Sacrifice. If a Christian child were found dead, Jews were blamed.] Two Christian children were found dead. Different sources say different things, but I know that Jews were hanged for it. Some say up to eleven Jews were accused. I don’t know exactly what happened with my family but I have made a pretty good guess that aligns with a standard course of action for Jews in this time. I’m guessing that my Jewish family (parents, grandparents, children) all converted to Christianity because of blood libel and other forms of antisemitism. Like Rabbi Joseph Telushkin explains, their goal was not to become Christian to be saved but to become goyim to avoid antisemitism. The ironic thing was, they eventually came to America where they would have been free to be their Jewish selves.

Why does this matter? Because it’s a part of my family history and it has informed who I am. It matters in the same way it matters that I know where my other great-grandma and grandpa came from. I know the name and location of their home-town and the story of how they got here. Also, because of ancestry.com I learned a lot about my mom’s side of the family. One line of her family has been here since the Mayflower, literally, and the men have fought in every major war our country has been in. I can find out information about them going back to the 1300s.

I’ve told one or two Jews the story of my Jewish family, and to my surprise – or, more so, dismay – they find this highly irrelevant and uninteresting. It’s like I just told them the weather report for the day. But when I tell them my mom’s family has been here since the Mayflower and that they fought in the American Revolution, they find that highly interesting. I really wonder why that is? The ancestor who fought in the Revolution is so many generations ago that I don’t even know how many greats I’d have to add to grandpa to describe him. In fact, I don’t even know his name. That’s cool but knowing my Jewish history is not? I really don’t get it because it is very important to me. To know I have Jews in my family line matters to me. To say “the G-d of our Fathers” in a prayer doesn’t just mean spiritual fathers for me, it’s literal. I have Jewish ancestry so I feel sincere when I say those words. I invoke this history when I say those words. Before my great-grandfather converted, Judaism could have been in his family for centuries. He could have been a kohane or a levite. It matters to me, because this person, who I never met, was Jewish and informs – in some small way – my Jewish identity.  

Reflections on the Shoah

I mentioned forever ago that I had this internship at Hillel -- the Holocaust Awareness Internship. Basically, I was responsible for planning the week of Holocaust remembrance activities around Yom HaShoah. And basically, it was the most stressful job of my life. Our programs were huge and we planned months in advance. They turned out beautifully. But let's face it, it's the Shoah. It's too much. I couldn't breathe for months. Don't get me wrong, I've studied the Holocaust many times in my life. I have been since I was ten years old. Quite honestly, we weren't studying it much during this internship. It was just there, around us all the time. I missed class one day, which I lied to the professor about where exactly I was, because I had lunch with a survivor instead. I scored the lowest in my math class on our midterm because it was during our 24-hour names' reading vigil and I just didn't care.

I don't know how people can devote their entire lives to studying the Holocaust. I wasn't even around for our first event of the week (a remembrance seder) and by Friday night shabbos I was in tears. I hid in the office while the rabbi welcomed in the angels and the other girls lit candles. I was a wreck. But then I remember that someone has to do it, which is why I did it in the first place. Thousands (maybe millions?) of people devote their lives to the study and remembrance of the Shoah because it is necessary. It is so sad but so true that it is necessary. I've spent a lot of time working with people at the Holocaust Museum in DC and doing different programs there. I've met countless survivors by now. I love the work they do. I often wonder if it was the work I was meant for...

Next year, I am not doing the Hillel internship. I like to tell people that Hillel internships only last one year. But that's not the truth. They were more than willing to make an exception for me because I did such great work. I didn't like working there. It was stressful for non-blog-worthy reasons. But a huge factor is the sadness that comes with the job. The Torah tells us that we must take care of ourselves before taking care of others. And the truth is, I want to devote next year to real Jewish study. Just like born Jews, I don't want my Judaism to be defined by the Holocaust. I want to have time to see the beauty in the 4,000 year old tradition and study the history that in one part includes the Shoah. Because when you study the Shoah, that's all there is. There's nothing else and you can't think straight. Even though I know it's not really possible, the next time I want to think about the Shoah, is Yom HaShoah 2013.

Below is part of a reflection I wrote about being at the Holocaust Museum in DC. and I wanted to include it just because....

After walking the halls of the Holocaust Museum, the wicked child asks, “Where was G-d?” and declares, “G-d is dead. Otherwise, he would not have abandoned His people and allowed the Holocaust to happen.” But the wise child asks, “Where was man?” After all, the wise child notes, it was man who built the gas chambers. It was man who aimed the guns of the Einsatzgruppen. It was man who watched it all happen. The simple child asks, “What has happened?” The Holocaust is such a huge event with so many facets that it is difficult to know where to begin. The silent child does not know what to ask. He is overwhelmed by all that he sees. All of these are legitimate reactions to encountering the Holocaust. Each of these children visits the museum everyday and they may be four years old or they may be ninety-four years old. We are all children when it comes to understanding the Holocaust.

Acts of (Inter)Faith

I just finished reading Acts of Faith: The Story of an American Muslim, the Struggle for the Soul of a Generation by Eboo Patel. And I actually got to meet and hang out with him for a few hours last week end. He is so down to earth and one of the most inspiring people I've ever met. He founded the Interfaith Youth Core which exists on college campuses but also works with high schoolers and the basic idea is for kids of different faiths to do service projects together and have dialogue about it later. The dialogue of course revolves around their many faiths. Through out his book, Eboo shows how all religious traditions exemplify two things. One of which we always think about when we think religion, and one of which we never think when we think religion. 1) All religions consider themselves unique and the best in some way. Religious particularity, if you will. 2) All religions take interfaith relations into consideration. See, that second one throws you off guard. But he really shows in his book how cooperation can be reached if we work at it and that all religions espouse these things. We can respect each other and work together in harmony. Interfaith work is supposed to make you more committed to your own faith.

I loved reading this book and I find it so relevant to today's America/world. But at times, I found myself outside the story. He talks so much about finding his own roots and others finding their roots. When you study other religions, that should bring you closer to your own. He studied Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, and Catholicism which only led him to be a more committed Muslim in the end. If I had been able to get him alone for just five minutes this weekend (or if I had a real email address of his now) I would have asked him "How do converts fit into your idea of interfaith development?" He was so open and vulnerable with himself, that I wouldn't have been afraid to ask him. It was just everyone else around him all the time. I would have outed myself. We weren't really in a religious setting, but a leadership setting, so that wasn't a place I felt comfortable being myself (I should say my Jewish-ish self). I really would love to know his answers because the entire time I was reading those parts of his book I felt like he was telling me to go back to Catholicism. And I wanted to scream back, "But I CAN'T!" What if you can't? What if Jesus isn't the savior? What if the same reason you don't subscribe to Christianity is the same reason I don't want to? How do I fit into the interfaith movement then?

I'm wording it in a childish way, but it is a serious question for me. I very much believe that interfaith is the movement of our time and that we have a responsibility to learn how to coexist. How do converts fit into the interfaith movement? Often, I get remarks from Jews about my Christian background. They range from harmless jokes to a stab right through the center of my soul. They have no idea what it's like to feel responsible for children getting molested. So, no those jokes aren't funny. And no true Catholic supports those priests either, just as no Jew supports the rabbis who behave in the same way. I've dealt with the pain that I put on myself. I don't need others putting it on me. Part of my issue of being in the interfaith movement is the lack of converts to Judaism. We confuse people. People convert to Christianity and Islam all the time. It's totally normal. More than that, it's welcomed. But Jews, in general, don't know how to deal with converts. The fear then becomes how will born Jews react when they hear me discussing another religion. My sincerity is already being questioned. An interfaith discussion can't possibly help. But should I forego my comfort for the sake of interfaith cooperation?

To be honest, I've never really done anything interfaith but I am about to make my family interfaith. It's kind of ironic. I've studied other religions, but I don't think that counts as interfaith study. When I did that, I was looking for something. I was looking for myself in those religions, to see if I could fit. When I saw I didn't fit, I walked away. The only religion I have studied beyond that is Christianity. I have studied for classes, for the sake of my parents, for the sake of understanding where I come from, where I don't come from, where the world is headed, and for the sake of understanding history. But it's always a little uncomfortable for me. I wonder if I really could do the same for other religions. I'm guessing studying Islam or Hinduism wouldn't make me uncomfortable since I wasn't raised in either of them and don't resent them for anything. But a stranger question is, are converts (in Judaism) even allowed to be a part of the interfaith movement? Would a rabbi seriously approve of me partaking in interfaith activities, studying other religions and experiencing different rituals? He would probably tell me I have to wait until after I converted. My guess is, for the foreseeable future I am going to be kept out of the interfaith movement.

Cupcakes, Movies, and Progress

If you are converting or have converted to Judaism, you probably know of Rabbi Andrea Myers (or you may have seen her book listen on my "What I've Read" page). If you have not, and you want to convert to Judaism, please google her immediately. Then get on Amazon and buy her book. Seriously, go. She will be 100x more helpful to you than this blog ever will be.

Anyway, there are two rabbis at Hillel who see me all the time who haven't talked to me as much as Rabbi Andrea. And she's never even met me. We live hundreds of miles from each other and most likely will never meet. If that's not fantastic then I don't know what is. But her knowledge is beyond helpful because she knows things that born Jews just do not (and converts who had a super easy time converting). She can explain why it is that my mother says "Judaism" and "Jewish" so strangely. She can explain what my parents are thinking about when they say things, or don't say things, and what I have to look forward to. She took the time to found out what my parents' Jewish interactions would be by asking other rabbis about the city they live in.

Turns out, my mother is worried about the stereotypes that other people will project onto me once I become a Jew. Honestly, I thought for a while my mom might be a secret antisemite. I like Rabbi Andrea's explanation much better. I guess that is a legitimate concern for a parent to have. I know that Jewish parents have similar concerns so it's not so out there. But the thing is, according to my dad, there isn't much antisemitism going on in my home town. My dad said he has encountered racism and homophobia but never antisemitism. Where is my mother getting her ideas about antisemitism from? I do not know. I just know it's weird for her to deal with the prospect of a Jewish daughter.

One day, Rabbi Andrea says, they will get over these things and start accepting it. They'll start asking super strange questions and cutting out Israel articles and talking to me about them. My mom is still really awkward at the mention of anything Jewish, but two weeks ago she called me to tell me about a special on TV she watched. It was about Tel Aviv. When I went home last weekend, my dad wanted to watch a "Jewish movie" with me (score!). When he proposed this, I offered him a "Jewish cupcake" (brought home leftovers from Hillel shabbat dinner) and he said, "those aren't Jewish cupcakes!" and I said, "Yes, they are. They're kosher." Then he ate one. (bonding over food, score #2.) We attempted to watch Exodus (the one from Europe, not Egypt). But since my dad still lives in the 80s and has this movie on Laserdisc, it didn't really happen. The player died 25 minutes into the movie. He is going to order on DVD and we'll attempt it again this summer. This might not seem like a big deal, but my dad loves movies. Watching a movie with him is like the ultimate bonding experience. The fact that he wants to watch Jewish movies with me is a tremendous jump from Easter.

The thing with my dad is, he can get super mad about things. Then when he calms down and starts thinking about things he can be very cool. It makes his growth in acceptance seem really big. Well, it is really big. But compared to my mom who didn't say much three months ago his change is really noticeable. I have no idea what kind of growth in acceptance is happening with my mother because she doesn't express herself. She kind of sucks at communicating on anything serious. She can have a ten minute conversation on the weather but five minutes on something real is a rare occasion. I don't know what's going on in her head right now. I know she told me about Tel Aviv but that's all that's happened with her in the last three months. But with my dad, things are pretty good in my eyes.

However, when things are weird or bad I have this advice from Rabbi Andrea as the silver lining: insanity + time = book :) Read hers and you'll understand...